The Banished Lands- The Complete Series

by Benjamin Mester

  Then a massive form suddenly hit the earth, leaping over the wall and coming down in the midst of the mercenary foot-soldiers. Clad in thick armor and wielding a large broadsword, he cleaved a half dozen dead before they could react. It was Drogan. He and Sheabor were alive! For the merest moment, everything stopped. None could believe their eyes. The mercenaries were thunderstruck at the sight of one of the Bearoc.

  The Arrival

  For long moments, no one dared move. Drogan was surrounded by the mercenaries of Kester, but they were keeping their distance. The battle had come to a standstill. Drogan's appearance was terrifying, but it was also demoralizing. His arrival signaled to the mercenaries that the forces of Corcoran had been defeated. Baron could see in their eyes, they had lost the will for battle. Though the mercenaries still outmatched them and could undoubtedly win the battle, whatever further money they'd been promised by the forces of Corcoran was now forfeit.

  Drogan raised his broadsword and let out a deafening roar. Then he swung wildly in their direction, hitting none of them, but causing all who surrounded him to jump back in fear of their lives. The foot-soldiers glanced to one another as Drogan reared up for another attack. But the foot-soldiers had already begun to flee. Baron couldn't believe it. A moment later, Sheabor too came to stand in their midst.

  Baron watched in disbelief as the mercenary army poured out from the city. He walked over and embraced Sheabor tightly. Sheabor chuckled, as did Bowen.

  “You have a knack for arriving just in the nick of time, don't you,” Bowen said.

  Sheabor was out of breath.

  “I can't believe we made it,” he said. “We had to go ahead of the Melanorians. Only Agur and Drogan were swift enough for the journey.”

  “Did you defeat the forces of Corcoran?” Baron asked.

  Sheabor nodded.

  “We would have been slaughtered, but for the courage of Straiah.”

  “Is he alive?” Baron asked.

  “I don't know,” Sheabor conceded. “We left him in the care of Gwaren. He was badly injured.”

  “Estrien was asking after him,” Baron said.

  “Estrien is alive?” Sheabor asked in surprise.

  Baron nodded.

  “Quickly!” Bowen yelled. “Bring the wounded to the medical tents.”

  Sheabor and Baron broke company and began attending to the wounded soldiers. Those who were in condition to walk were helped to the medical area. Those who couldn't walk were carried on blankets and laid outside the tents. There were far more wounded than could be attended to. Bowen, Baron and Sheabor entered the main medical tent, where the main healer of Ogrindal was very busy at work.

  “Is there anything we can do to assist you?” Bowen asked the healer.

  The healer was flustered at being bothered.

  “Leave me alone,” he responded, “and that will be a start.”

  Bowen chuckled.

  “Doctor,” Sheabor insisted. “Please tell us what you need.”

  The healer paused his work for the moment and looked up to Sheabor and the rest.

  “Many are critically wounded,” he began. “I don't know how many will last the night. You have to try and separate the ones we can save from the ones we can't. And they all need accommodations. They can't be made to endure the elements.”

  “We'll convert as many of the tents as you need,” Sheabor replied.

  Baron had been hoping to find Ariadra at the healer's tents but had yet to spot her. His heart grew worried. Had something happened to her during the battle, some wayward arrow tragically striking her? Baron began to look for her frantically but to no avail, spinning round and about to call out her name.

  Just then, a soft hand came down upon his shoulder and he whipped round to find Ariadra's sweet face gazing at him. She had a bruise on her left temple and her apron was bloody, but she was fine. Baron felt faint at the sight of her and knew in his heart of hearts that from this day forward, he never wanted to be parted from her again.

  “Will you marry me?” Baron asked her.

  Ariadra was surprised at the question, and Baron flushed red realizing he had chosen a horrible time and place. He opened his mouth to say something further but saw her eyes begin to well up with tears and she nodded eagerly. Baron embraced her tightly and even amid the chaos of war, everything seemed perfect.

  “I need to go back and help the healers,” Ariadra said.

  Baron nodded.

  “I just had to come and find you to know you were safe,” she said.

  Baron smiled. While he had been frantically searching for her among the healer's tents, she'd been searching for him among the warriors. Baron squeezed her hands tightly, nearly unwilling to let her go. But she pulled away at length and disappeared. Baron sought to make himself useful as best he could and his heart broke as many of the men he helped slipped away to death before anything could be done for them.

  After most of the day had passed a rider approached from the east, trotting quickly with a mat of some kind tied diagonally at the back of his horse. It was Gwaren! And he towed Straiah behind him!

  “He's badly wounded!” Gwaren yelled as he dismounted near the main healer's tent. “He needs care immediately.”

  Sheabor and Bowen ran over to greet him.

  “Put him with the others,” the healer commanded, who was nearby. “I'll see to him at once.”

  “No,” said Sheabor. “Put him on a bed beside Estrien.”

  The healer gave Sheabor a hard stare at being contravened, but nodded at length in assent.

  “You do it!” the healer commanded. “But stay out of my way.”

  Gwaren took Straiah and followed Sheabor. Baron ran up to show them the way and a few others were shuffled around to make way for Straiah, who was gently laid beside Estrien. Then the three came outside, Sheabor turning to Gwaren.

  “Thank you for what you've done for Straiah,” Sheabor said. “You and Straiah saved everyone.”

  Gwaren gave him a low bow.

  “How bad are his wounds?” Sheabor asked.

  “The arrow in his chest shattered two ribs. It didn't penetrate the lung, but marrow may have seeped into the blood. If it did, he'll take a fever and die. I've seared the wound with hot iron. He fainted from the pain and hasn't awoken since. The healer will know more in time.”

  Sheabor clenched his jaw and nodded. The day slowly progressed to evening as if in a blur. Baron gradually succumbed to utter exhaustion, having worked feverishly throughout the night to strengthen the city's defenses, then thrust directly into a fierce battle that morning, demanding more of himself than he thought he could give. It made him realize that he not only fought for himself, but for all those he had come to love and cherish. Though every muscle in his body ached, he was filled with intense gratitude and hope for the future.

  As sunset fell, he slumped down beside one of the fires, nodding off to sleep. But he sensed someone sit down beside him and felt Ariadra's head rest down softly against his chest. Baron breathed in deep and kissed her head. A short while later, Gwaren, Sheabor and Bowen also sat down around the fire.

  “The plans for the forward wall seem to have changed since I left,” Sheabor said, smiling. “But I like the improvements.”

  Baron chuckled, smiling to Bowen.

  “I can't thank you both enough for how you've defended this place.”

  Bowen gave Sheabor a bow.

  “There's been talk that you are now in command of our people,” Gwaren said to Ariadra.

  Baron felt Ariadra grow tense and she straightened up, turning her eyes to Gwaren.

  “Only temporarily, of course,” she said, drawing laughter from the rest.

  “Well,” Sheabor said. “There was a formal vote. And our friend here is somewhat lacking in the subtleties of politics.”

  The group chuckled further. They'd work everything out later. But Sheabor's look grew suddenly troubled and he turned to Baron.

  “Baron, your brother?” Sheabor
questioned. “Did he fall in battle?”

  Baron shook his head.

  “He isn't here.”

  In surprise, Sheabor opened his mouth to inquire further.

  “I'm not sure where exactly he went,” Baron said. “He only said he needed to find something left for us by King Euthor, something that would help us win this war.”

  Sheabor's countenance turned thoughtful as he considered what such a thing could possibly be. Blair was either crazy, or would end up saving all their lives. Either option was somewhat astounding to consider. But the group dispersed, with more work to be done, and in the presence of Ariadra, Baron found a renewed energy. The pair set off hand in hand across the city and to the plains beyond. There was so much ahead of them, so much yet to do with the alliance city. But for now, they would drink deeply of love.

  The evening meal was prepared late in the night and even out among the grasses of the plains, the warm aroma drifted to them. Baron and Ariadra joined the rest, surprised to hear music and laughter among the people. There was much talk, much joy and laughter, recounting the events and heroic deeds done. Baron heard someone speak the name of Straiah, and Baron wanted suddenly to know that he and Estrien were still among them.

  Baron turned to Ariadra with a warm smile and before they joined a meal, they made for the medical area. Treading softly and avoiding the sleeping persons still strewn about, who'd yet to be moved to better accommodations, they came to the tent where Estrien and Straiah had been placed, smiling at what they saw. Though Estrien and Straiah were both unconscious, they each had a hand outstretched to the other, interwoven tightly. They were both fighting for their lives, but now they were fighting together. Baron smiled and breathed a deep sigh of relief. He knew in his heart of hearts they were going to be alright.

  Revelation

  Blair stood atop the sands of a small island, the ocean spray falling lightly on his face in the breeze. The waves were crashing loudly just in front of him, and the grasses swaying back and forth behind him. He stood there in silence, heart racing.

  Blair's journey had come to an end at the port city of Edessa, having traveled long through the lands of Kester. He had made his way by selling stone statues in various marketplaces, a traveling sculptor from distant lands, bringing exotic stone. They were easy for him to construct, and the townspeople marveled at the colors and craftsmanship, unlike anything they'd seen. He made more than enough money for food and lodging.

  But his journey had come to a standstill at the port city of Edessa. Having reached the sea, he lingered for days within the city, seeking out the sailors of the port to ask what lay beyond. For days, he got the single same answer from everyone. Nothing lay beyond. Only open ocean with a strong current that could steal a ship and drive it into oblivion.

  But one day Blair saw an old fisherman sitting off alone, mending his nets. Walking over, Blair sat down beside him to help, the man smiling warmly and giving him part of the netting. Blair asked him the same question he'd asked every other, if he knew of anything that lay beyond the coast. The man's look became distant as he considered, almost as though recalling a distant memory or something from a fading dream.

  “As a boy, my father often took me out onto the open waters of the bay, though we never ventured far,” the old man said. “But one time, having set out in fair weather, we were caught in a storm before we could return. A thick haze set out over the waters and my father couldn't find his way to shore. But my father saw a form upon the open seas, and made for it and our ship ran aground on the lee of an island, where we weathered the storm until it passed. It lay a few leagues off the coast, small, near impossible to find. But it saved our lives. I've always longed to see it again.”

  “Could you find it?” Blair had asked him. “I'll pay you well.”

  The old man nodded thoughtfully and the two set off the next morning, Blair giving him all the money he had in exchange. Within a few hours, Blair saw a small form rise above the horizon, growing larger as the man worked diligently to guide the boat to rest within a small, sheltered bay.

  Blair had wandered the island in almost a daze, completely mystified that this place actually existed, that King Euthor had called him here. But for what? And how could he really be sure that this was the same island from the poem? He wandered the island for hours, finding nothing, and finally he came to rest on the island's far shore, amid the crashing waves and salty sea spray. His feet sank down into the gritty sands, and he watched as the waves slid powerfully up and down the steep incline, grinding the sands to a fine powder from eons and eons of crashing surf.

  The sands were of strange coloration here, mostly golden, but speckled with dark grains, and others of a reddish hue. The opening line of King Euthor's poem suddenly flashed through his mind.

  The golden speckled sands array

  The distant pounding shore.

  Blair bent down and took a handful of sand into his palms. The grains flowed through his fingertips and back to the beach. He could sense something about the sands but didn't know what, his Builder ability picking up on something his conscious mind didn't. Heart racing, he let his ability flow into the sands, watching the grains melt together. And just as he did, his eyes went wide with wonder, as a wave of realization swept over him. This was no ordinary sand.

  He gasped as he understood instantly what it had all been for – the dreams, his new powers, the poems, and the end mission. This was it! This was the key to everything! And it had been hidden here for a millennia in plain sight.

  Worlds Collide

  Part 5

  The breezy cold, the clouds sail by,

  Like lonely ships in ocean sky.

  The grassy hills are misty wet,

  As when the first night that we met;

  As when we wandered slowly there

  Beneath an ancient, starry air.

  The twinkling city, far and deep,

  Is slumb'ring softly in its sleep.

  They rest, while we alone roam free,

  Beneath our vast eternity;

  Above the city, gazing down,

  Strangers at the edge of town.

  Let’s never break this spell we’re under.

  Let’s flee into a world of wonder.

  And all or nothing, hand in hand,

  Let’s find our place and make our stand.

  Questions Unanswered

  The sun rose slowly across the highland plains of Kester, what little warmth it offered stolen by the morning breeze dancing atop the grasses. The alliance city was just beginning to stir, though Baron had awoken before the rest...awoken with a question lodged in his mind.

  Rising just before dawn, he made his way to a large tent that functioned as a barracks for the soldiers. Within the tent, at the rear under guard, was a smaller tent which contained the black suits of armor they'd taken from the slain warriors of the elite force from the Banished Lands. Passing by the still slumbering soldiers, Baron entered the guarded tent where more than a dozen suits of black armor were arrayed, most damaged, but one or two still in pristine condition.

  Baron walked slowly to one that looked unscathed, running his hand along its smooth surface. Cold to the touch, it felt metallic like a normal suit of armor. But something more lay beyond what eye could see – a stone component his Builder ability sensed. Gazing in confusion, his mind was at a loss to explain how metal and stone could be so seamlessly integrated together. Wandering as he pondered to another suit which had sustained heavy damage, he was surprised to see spiderweb fracturing all across the surface of the suit, radiating out from the impact points of arrows. He'd never seen metal do that.

  “Will you be needing anything else?” someone asked, springing Baron from his ruminations.

  He turned round to find the guard still standing there.

  “I could use a blacksmith's hammer,” Baron said.

  The guard hesitated a moment, but bowed and departed nonetheless. Baron returned his fingertips to the cold surface of th
e armor, his Builder ability sensing the stone within it. Whenever he touched a stone, something in his mind subtly exerted control over it. The tougher the stone, the more concentration it took, but nearly every stone succumbed to his Builder ability – only stones from the First Age able to resist his touch.

  Baron closed his eyes and focused, trying to soften the stone and separate it from one of the pieces of armor, but to no avail. How in the world did they make armor like this? Baron gazed for long minutes until the soldier returned, hammer in hand.

  “Will there be anything else?” the soldier asked.

  “Yes. Please bring me a handful of stone and some of our light-armored breastplates.”

  The guard clenched his jaw and hesitated. He had a post to attend to, after all.

  “You know...I'll get them myself. Thank you.”

  The guard bowed and Baron took the hammer, hitting it lightly against one of the breastplates, which rang out like any other piece of armor would, clearly made of metal. If not for his Builder ability and the strange fracturing pattern, he'd have no reason to suspect this armor was anything special. But this armor had allowed Corcoran's elite force to travel at speed throughout the lands of the Horctura, ransacking their outposts. Would all the armies of Corcoran be thus arrayed when the invasion finally began? Or was this something rare...something from the First Age even?

  Baron lost himself to hours of tinkering, departing and returning a half dozen times for supplies and tools to aid in his experiments until, at length, the tent flap burst open behind him, Sheabor entering.

  “Baron, what in the world are you doing?” Sheabor demanded, startling Baron from his work. “I've been looking everywhere for you.”

  Baron stared at Sheabor blankly before registering the question.

  “I couldn't sleep,” Baron replied. “Something about these suits of armor was troubling me. Have you taken a close look at them?”